


Second Only to Whiskey

by electricmisso



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F, Mean Ladies Making Out And Processing Their Shit Together, Slow Burn, because there is approximately a fuck ton of plot., what is the opposite of a pwp?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricmisso/pseuds/electricmisso
Summary: Alice Cooper is on the run from The Farm and her murderous, escaped convict ex-husband. But when she takes shelter in an old abandoned church, little does she know the Church of Lilith, and its new High Priestess, are about to come calling.





	1. "Try me."

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers abound throughout for CAOS Part 2 and Riverdale S3. This isn’t an OTP/endgame situation as much as it’s….i love both of these characters so much and i wanted to watch them mix it up a bit. And don’t worry, the M rating will be earned eventually.

Their hike through the forest had been muddy, and now Zelda found her rather impractical heels covered in leaves, caked on in the underbrush. Pests that clung to you, not unlike this old church.

“We should just demolish it,” she huffed. “Start over from scratch.”

“Oh come on, Zelds. Sure, it needs a bit of polishing up, but the inside won’t be that bad.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just condemn the place. None of it seems salvageable.”

They both knew that, beneath the surface, she wasn’t just talking about the building; their entire coven had been severely shaken, traumatized by the true nature of patriarchs they trusted. As their new leader, Zelda fully intended to move them into their next chapter as quickly as possible.

“Faiths need places to gather, Zelda, even if they are repurposed. Besides, it’s not like we have the resources to refurbish another desecrated church.” Hilda always knew how to balance her optimism with practicality. “And don’t even think I’d let you start a forest fire just to burn this place in effigy.”

It hadn’t taken long for the church to become overgrown; already tucked deep into the foliage of the woods, the soil beneath it was profoundly ripe, and after weeks of disregard, the crawling vines that covered the doors had gone through a complete cycle of growth and death, wrapping the structure in its withering snarl.

“It’s not just the church itself, Hilda. It’s what it represents: the past, traditions we want to be rid of.” Husbands we want to be rid of.

“But the past is part of our story.” Hilda was almost reverent. “This is a historical site. If we’re going to move forward as the Church of Lilith, there has to be a marker of where we came from, why we splintered off, so future witches will know why we did what we did.”

Zelda remained, as she often was, unmoved.

“Fine,” Hilda conceded. “We can do whatever you want with the church, after we make sure there isn’t anything of value left inside.”

It wasn’t just Faustus she wanted to move past, as a husband or a high priest; it was the entire ethos of the Church of Night. Any institution that allowed such a lecherous cretin to fail upward, lead his grasp to young minds, was not worth saving. It was only when the church imploded, the Dark Lord showing his true intentions, that Zelda realized how small it had made her feel, how powerless. No one in her flock (no girls, especially) would feel that way ever again.

“By all means, sister, lead the way.” So Hilda tromped through the twigs and wet leaves, smiling.

The lock on the door to the church was prone to jamming after years of wear, but now, Hilda had to use sheer brute strength to crack the vines laced around it. When the sisters made it inside, they could see that the creeping plants had broken windows and squeezed through floorboards. It smelled dour and dank, most likely from unfettered rain seeping through the new cracks; Zelda breathed with caution, as the potion it took to rid oneself of a deep mold cough was quite foul.

She’d never been in this place while it was empty; she was always part of the congregation, or helping her brother prepare for a sermon. Faustus had never wanted her alone here, but only out of logistical convenience, as he spent the majority of his time indoctrinating students at the academy over conducting services - his youthful band of misogynists were easier to control, and he needed their numbers, their blind enthusiasm.

But there were still echoes of him here, and Edward, and scores of coven members she’d thought about strangling for centuries.

“It won’t take that long to freshen up,” she heard Hilda say cheerily. “A few fix-it spells will have her good as new!”

“We’re starting over, Hilda.” She considered carefully. “ _Good as_ new will not suffice.” 

Before Hilda could retort, a faint skitter called out from the dark pulpit, near the front row of pews, and both sisters halted still.

“Did you hear that?”

“Of course I heard it, Hilda. It’s probably just a racoon, or an opossum.” Zelda would never admit to being frightened by bumps in the night, but she was biased against disease-carrying creatures that could move faster than her. “You’re the one who wants to give this place a good spot-clean, sister.” She gestured toward the mystery sound, “so why don’t you start with a little pest control?”

“You know what, Zelda? I think I will.” Hilda marched to the front of the church, eager to prove her point that this building could and should be restored. But once she ducked out of sight, and stayed there, silent, Zelda knew something was wrong.

“What is it, Hilda? A rodent? Something that will have left droppings for us to clean up after?”

“I...highly doubt that.”

She craned to see what so captivated her sister, but the mystery was just out of view. “What are you playing at?!”

“It’s not a rodent, Zelds. It’s…..a blonde.”

Zelda stormed down the center aisle of the church, the sodden, moldy floor muffling her angry stomps. When she turned to face her sister’s discovery, she saw Hilda crouched down next to the shaking form of a woman, curled up under the front pew. The intruder was dressed all in white, and might have appeared ethereal if she weren’t so caked in grime. 

“Please, please,” she begged, tears welling. “Please don’t hurt me. You seem like nice women. _Please._ ” 

The muck and the tears didn’t fully conceal her beauty, but she appeared gaunt and sallow, as if it had perhaps been too long since she’d eaten.

But Zelda could summon no pity. “What has given you _any_ indication that we’re nice!?”

“Zelda,” Hilda said sternly. “That’s quite enough for now.” She turned back to the shivering woman, her voice returning to its comforting timbre, encouraging the woman to come out from her hiding place. “What’s your name, love?”

“Alice. Alice Cooper.” She paused. “Alice Smith.” Again. “Alice...hell, I don’t even know anymore.” She clutched both hands to her forehead; she was frustrated and confused, but the sisters could also sense grief in her voice.

Hilda, ever so gently, brushed the stray hairs away from Alice’s brow, allowing them to make full eye contact. Her eyes smiled, as they so often did at Sabrina, as if to say _you’ve done nothing wrong, and we’re here to help you_ ; if she’d said it out loud, Zelda would not only disagree, but drag the woman out by the hair.

At least that’s what Hilda thought she would do.

There were too many conflicting emotions keeping her from unleashing on this woman, this Alice: curiosity, pity, and a hint of familiarity.

“I recognize you,” said Zelda. “From your author photo in the _Register._ ”

It was a small-time paper; in fact, it would sometimes go weeks without publishing at all, no explanation given. There hadn’t been a delivery from them in months, and she’d assumed they had folded, which Zelda found somewhat unfortunate at the time; she felt it important to keep up with the regional obituaries, to see which mortuaries in Riverdale were their biggest competition. 

She thought the recognition might give the woman some comfort, but at Zelda’s revelation, her tears finally boiled over, and Alice began to actively sob. Hilda sent a scolding look toward her sister and mouthed, _“Nice work!”_

“My God, that makes this all even more embarrassing,” said Alice between cries. “That you know who I was and how far I’ve fallen. That Alice Cooper is homeless and on the run.”

 _So she thinks quite highly of herself,_ thought Zelda. _Or she did._

“How long have you been here, Alice?” Hilda asked sweetly.

“It can’t have been more than two days,” Alice answered, “but I’m pretty fuzzy on time. I’m just so...so tired. And hungry.” 

“We can see that,” Zelda said tersely. “But that doesn’t excuse your trespassing on our property.”

Breath began to overtake Alice faster than she could exhale. “I heard you both talking outside. You don’t even want this place. Why don’t you just…” she sniffed, “...just let it collapse on top of me. Leave me here to rot with the rest of it.” She heaved and cried, but when she aimed to slump to the floor, her head landed in Hilda’s lap.

“Now now, love. Don’t talk like that.” Hilda was quite the artist of emotional damage control, but without knowing Alice’s story, there wasn’t much she could do other than hold her close.

“Do you want to tell us why you’re in our church, Alice?”

Zelda remained cold and cautious. “I believe I heard something about ‘on the run,’ Hilda. Perhaps we shouldn’t be associating with squatters in possession of criminal records.”

“Zelda! Perhaps we shouldn’t judge someone who is,” Hilda lowered her voice, “clearly quite fragile.”

While they bickered, Alice’s crying began to calm, enough to take in the sisters’ exchange, and direct her gaze and the well-dressed woman standing above her. “It’s actually quite the opposite, _Zelda,_ ” said Alice, emphasizing the other woman’s name, both a taunt and a coo. “I’m not the bad guy - I’m running from them.” She was fiery now. “I did everything I could to protect my girls from them, and...and I couldn’t. I don’t know where they went. So the only option I have is for them to not know where I am. That’s the only way I’ll survive.”

Both sisters absorbed this in their own ways: Hilda with concern, Zelda with a need for answers. “Who are _they?_ ” she asked.

“And why do they want to hurt you?” Hilda added.

Alice, after all her fear and quakes and sobs, actually laughed. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

Zelda crouched next to her sister, and closer to Alice, for the sole purpose of leveling her gaze at the stranger. This mortal, who knew nothing of the dark and unholy happening all around her, thought she possessed a story they wouldn’t believe.

“Try me.”

******

“If you’ll excuse us for a minute, Alice, I think my sister and I need to have a chat outside.”

“Of course, Hilda,” answered Alice, her voice composed, no sign of tears. “Take all the time you need.”

Zelda didn’t know how long they’d listened to Alice’s story, but as opened the church doors, rims of light from the sun peeked over the horizon; it had been hours. Once they were outside Zelda cast a silencing spell, so she and her sister could speak freely about their...visitor.

“So…” Hilda began. “There are cults in Riverdale now.”

“And serial killers, apparently.” Zelda remembered that Alice and her husband, Hal, had co-published the paper - their smug suburban faces splashed across its pages wouldn’t let you forget - so him taking up a murder habit would explain their recent inconsistent publishing schedule.

“Poor Alice.” 

“I don’t disagree, sister.” Zelda was nothing if not steadfast. “But that doesn’t mean we can harbor a runaway mortal in our church.”

“Of course not,” Hilda said confidently. “We can’t let her stay in there. She’ll stay at home with us.”

“Hilda! Are you insane?” Zelda tried to restrain her shouts despite her spell, not eager for the entire forest to hear. “One woman tells us her sob story and you’re ready to expose us to the human world?!”

“There are spells for that sort of thing, Zelda. She wouldn’t have to remember any of it. We could tell her once she feels more comfortable with us and then zap it all before she leaves.” Memory magic was complicated, but certainly nothing the Spellmans couldn’t handle. “And it wouldn’t be forever. Just until they find Hal. And this Edgar...Ever-whatsit. Until she can go back to her life.”

“I’m the High Priestess of the Church of Lilith. I can’t be taking in strays.”

“That’s exactly what you _should_ be doing!” Hilda was emphatic. “Helping those who have been wronged by the cruel, the powerful. That is the essence of the story of Lilith.” She looked up at her taller, straight-backed sister. “And the story of her High Priestess.”

Zelda considered for a few moments, finally recognizing what held her back from laying into Alice before: fear. Fear that if things had gone differently, she might have needed to run from her home, from her husband, and hide in an unfamiliar place, at the mercy of strangers.

This was empathy, and this was something Zelda didn’t know what to do with.

But Hilda seemed to know. So for the second time in one night, Zelda let her sister take the lead.

“Let’s get her to the house.”

Hilda was giddy, leaving her sister behind to run back into the church and give Alice the news.

“So, we’ve decided you should stay with us, Alice, just until the dust clears.” Hilda was practically breathless, as she always spoke too quickly when excited.

“And only until then,” Zelda added pointedly.

“That’s…” Alice’s eyes welled again, but this time without sadness. “...that is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me. Thank you, Hilda.”

“You’re so welcome, love.”

“And you too, Zelda.” She had hung back at the church entrance. This “kindness” was one of the more reckless things they’d ever taken on, but Hilda was right: Alice deserved protection, and the Spellmans could give her that, while Lilith smiled upon them.

“Think nothing of it. Let’s head home now. I need to be out of this ghastly building.”

“You’re telling me,” Alice exclaimed as they all made their way outside. “Where are you ladies parked?”

They had, of course, teleported, and the house was much too far to feign that they’d strolled here instead. 

Zelda had assumed they would broach magic after a week or so, at least once Alice had slept and been fed, and once she knew them better, less likely to lash out.

She yielded to her sister. “This was your idea, Hilda. You get to tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Hilda’s happy assuredness from mere moments ago had dissipated. She sputtered slightly, unsure of how to introduce a new world to someone who’s own world had already been shattered.

“I suppose now is the best time to tell you about our...unique family. We have quite a few old traditions. Ones you might find...strange.”

Alice smirked. “Please, strange is all I’ve ever known.” She lifted her chin, daring them to scare her away with the truth. “It’s like Zelda said before.” Their eyes locked. “Try me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! this is my first attempt at a multi-chapter, and i’m still adjusting to my new job and schedule, so watch this space for updates. i promise they're coming, but comments and feedback and words of encouragement will probably help me update faster.
> 
> i know my primary audience for fic (oh wow i sound like such a douche) is the CAOS side of things, so i wanted to make this still comprehensible for people unfamiliar with Alice and Riverdale (if you’d like some more context, though, [this article](https://www.denofgeek.com/us/tv/riverdale/281164/riverdale-season-3-ending-explained) does as good a job as you can at summarizing up to this point, and the Alice and Betty sections are most necessary for our purposes).
> 
> these two fandoms might have a tendency to butt heads, but i’m just here to have a good time, y’all. i hope you are too =)
> 
> oh yeah hey follow me on tumblr @electric-eccentricity or twitter @electricmisso.


	2. "How to tame a wild mortal."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cup of tea and a nice hot bath should sort you right out.

“I suppose that could have gone better.”

“Well, Hilda, when you grab a mortal stranger to teleport sidecar with no explanation, things tend to move south rather quickly.”

Despite the rather urgent nature of their new houseguest’s reaction, Zelda could not keep her sarcasm contained. This wasn’t the first time her sister’s big heart had gotten them into trouble. But it was the first time it could lead them to be justifiably charged with kidnapping.

“I knew she’d be confused, shocked even; would have been ready to catch her if she fainted. I didn’t think she’d react like...this.”

It was quite a juxtaposition, Zelda thought, seeing the refined woman she recognized from the paper practically feral. Alice’s wails had begun just as soon as three pairs of feet landed on the porch, echoing into the early morning air. Before they’d taken off, Hilda had spit out a quick, “we’ll explain everything at the house,” as if that would dampen the blow of being beamed from a creepy church to a creepier mortuary.

**_“HEELLLLLLLLLP!”_ **

The word came out as a long and deep bellow, not the shrill cries of distress they might have hoped for, easier to soothe and contain. Zelda’s hand flew to cover Alice’s mouth out of reflex. But before she could get a solid grasp, Alice bit down hard on her middle finger. It made Zelda wince, but she maintained her grip on the writhing woman’s wrist, twisting an arm behind her back, refusing to let her go while she was lead inside.

Thinking you’d taken in an injured baby bird, only to discover it was a rabid swan, is not a welcome surprise.

“Where are you taking me?!” Alice yelled, kicked. “I will *not* be locked in a bunker again!!!”

Hilda whispered, to no one in particular, “What does she mean _again!?_ ” 

After all the trauma she’d endured, it felt too cruel to tie Alice up, restrict her movements. So instead, the sisters placed protective shields on either end of the front hallway, effectively trapping her, but leaving her room to breathe. And scream.

And now she had been screaming, pounding on the drafty walls, for nearly an hour, all while Hilda paced and Zelda smoked. It was a good thing Sabrina was Lilith-knows where, as she was wont to make any situation including her presence far more difficult.

Hilda’s gentle placations had done nothing to calm Alice down, and she’d finally given up on then after fifty-or-so minutes. 

“Please, Zelds, _do something._ She won’t stop! And Sabrina might be home soon!” Between the two of them, Hilda had the superior people skills, but those were proving far from useful, and it’s not as if Zelda’s lack of couth could make the situation any worse.

“Alice,” Zelda said in her smoothest voice, just a bit of added haught, “I need you to calm down.”

“Fuck off, you psycho bitch! I’ve come too far to be taken out by two hags in the woods!”

 _How to tame a wild mortal,_ Zelda wondered to herself. A sweeter one might do best with soothing, a gentle hand to guide them into a new world. A skeptic might need something akin to proof, or a detailed explanation of their history, before landing on a statement of truth; if this woman hadn’t just escaped an organ-harvesting cult prone inducing seizures with drugged sweets, she might have a harder time believing in the unbelievable. But Alice had nerve, and bite. So Zelda would bite back.

“Think about it, Alice: if we were going to kill you, wouldn’t we have done it by now?” She cocked a brow, daring their captive to refute her.

“You must be working with Edgar,” Alice spat, unphased. “He must have sent you to find me.”

“I think you’ll find it’s a family policy to avoid associating with gruesome men.”

“It’s a rather new policy,” Hilda muttered under her breath.

As Zelda stepped closer, she held the other woman’s gaze. “And if we were holding you against your will,” her voice became calm, seductive and unnerving, “you’ve already done yourself in, haven’t you Alice? You’ve worn out your voice with all the screaming, and we’re set so far from the main road...who knows how long we’d be able to keep you?”

“Zelda, you’re scaring her,” Hilda scolded, while Alice remained silent. The storm in her eyes had calmed, anger gone, only fear left.

“That’s the idea. You told me to do something, sister. I’m appealing to the logic of a smart and capable woman. And her survival instincts.”

“Please, just let me go,” she pleaded. “I won’t tell a soul about any of this if you just let me go.”

“Of course you would,” Zelda spat. “You’re a reporter. Telling everyone within earshot is the first thing you’d do.”

The scare tactics had done a fair job, so Zelda returned to a softer tone. “We could let you go now, Alice, back to running for your life in the woods. But we’d have to erase your memory first.”

“How…?” She gulped, eyes blown wide. “How would you erase my memory? How did we get here from the forest? What ...are you?”

There would be no going back after this; only forward, but with redactions. They all knew that Alice had been through quite enough; she deserved the truth, if only for a short time.

“Despite your little tantrum, I believe you can handle the long and short of it.” All three women had fallen silent. “We’re witches, Alice; me, Hilda, our entire family going back thousands of years. We conjure magic using the forces of Hell. Up until recently, we worshipped Satan as our Dark Lord.”

“Under new management,” Hilda added.

Alice stared, shocked. When she finally spoke it was only to say, “That was...concise.”

Zelda could see the disbelief radiating from Alice, her human brain attempting to process the impossible. “We’ll answer any questions you might have, Alice...but only if you promise to stop screaming.”

“I swear I’ll be quiet.” The sisters could see her eyeing the comfortable seats in their parlor; her knees were shaking, and it had probably been days since she’d felt a soft place to land. She was eyeing even their shabbiest settee with outright lust.

When Zelda released the wards, Hilda was there to support Alice’s wobbling form, and lead her to the parlor. As she settled, Hilda found the nearest afghan, one she lovingly knitted sometime during the Ford administration, around Alice’s shoulders. “I’ll put the kettle on while you get warmed up.”

When Hilda left, so did the comfortable warmth she brought to their uncomfortable situation. Each woman appraised the other, unwilling to seem more vulnerable than they already did.

Alice was the one to break the silence.“Why should I believe you?”

It was a predictable stance. “Really, Alice; of all the crazy things you’ve seen, is witchcraft truly that far afield?”

She huffed. “Man-made monstrosities are one thing; this is some Hocus Pocus bullshit. I can’t believe I’ve just run from one horror movie into another.”

“Well, bullshit is relative isn’t it? I don’t doubt this seems crazy to you - probably just as crazy as sunny church picnics and pastels seem to me.”

She could already tell Alice wasn’t the type to admit out loud that the supernatural world lived alongside her “normal” one; suburban housewives always have a knack for maintaining denial, and Alice was a stubborn one at that. But belief was not the goal for Zelda, nor would it be for her sister - they only meant to provide safe harbor.

“I don’t want to join your little Satanic assemblage. I’ve already escaped one cult.”

“You couldn’t join us even if you wanted to. Magic is not a skill, it’s a birthright; we can’t teach you or make you one of us. So you’ll be here on a strictly observational basis.”

She could see it in Alice’s eyes: that untenable, human desire to be special, touch the beyond; she could picture little tweens, all those years ago in line at Mockingbird Books, blathering on about Hogwarts letters that would never come. Even when the idea of magic frightened them, they were always disappointed to learn that it wasn’t real; or, wasn’t real for them.

“Well if you can’t teach someone,” Alice continued, “how do your powers work?” This was a woman used to being placated, sold to, waiting for the pitch. 

“This is quite a double standard, Alice. You mortals never ask for the ins-and-outs of how your beloved Jesus performed his miracles.”

“Well I’m not sitting in Jesus’ parlor, am I?

Zelda sighed, with a slight edge of condescension, the same one she employed when little Sabrina would query above her weight class. “Magical theory can be quite complex, even for the most studied of witches. It would be quite too much to foist on a...simple mortal.” The faintest whisper in the back of Zelda’s mind, one whose voice sounded suspiciously like Faustus Blackwood’s, chided that _she_ didn’t understand it all either; that she wasn’t fit to teach or guide or lead or preach.

Hilda returned with a full teapot and a bountiful selection of biscuits. “Already insulting our guest, I see?”

“Hilda, we both know that even the smartest of mortals doesn’t have the brain capacity to comprehend foundational magic.” Alice’s face was riddled with offence.

“I say this with the utmost amount of love, Zelda: if you’re going to be High Priestess and plan to, by some unholy miracle, avoid charges of heresy, you’re really going to need to work on your delivery.”

“You’re the high priestess?” Alice asked. “Of what exactly?”

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? She’d spent most of her time in the trenches, rebuilding the decimated academy infrastructure and the spirits of traumatized children, she hadn’t given much thought to her actual rank. Thankfully the Church of Night elders, perhaps distracted by the disappearance of their own Dark Lord, had been content to leave Zelda’s rogue faction alone, for the time being.

“Yes,” she declared with outward confidence. “Just of our area coven. For now.” Hilda’s eyes rolled, while Alice considered the revelation, crossing her arms. 

“If you’re so important, you should be able to show me some magic. Prove to me that you’re a witch.”

It was Zelda’s turn to be offended. “Teleporting you and trapping you in our hallway wasn’t enough?”

Alice grinned while pouring herself a cup of Hilda’s tea. “If you want to make a believer out of me, you’re going to have to try a little harder.”

Anger began to simmer inside of Zelda, annoyed with the arrogance of this lesser being. “I care nothing of what you believe. Whether you choose to believe in my power or not, it still exists. And besides, aren’t we doing enough by providing you with shelter?”

“If you recall, the shelter was your idea. And in return, I keep your secret.” Her voice began to carry. “Unless you plan on mocking me for my entire stay. Then who knows who my stupid human mouth might blab to!”

“Girls,” Hilda interjected, “let’s not fight.” As if that would stop the barreling mack truck of two women fluent in cruelty.

“You’re quite smug for someone who, mere hours ago, was sobbing and starving all alone out in the woods.” She hadn’t meant to boil over, truly, but Alice had pushed, and turning the other cheek was nowhere to be found in Zelda’s doctrine. “We are two of the most powerful witches alive. Your puny mortal mind is putty in our hands. You won’t have a chance to blab to anyone once we’re done with you; you’ll just go back to your sad, pathetic little life. If any of your life is still there for you after all...this.”

“Zelda!” Hilda was stern. “That is quite enough.”

Quiet had settled over the room before Zelda realized the fear in Alice’s eyes again, like what she’d seen when they had her trapped. Hilda, again, was the comforter, shoving a biscuit into Alice’s hand. She munched quietly, until she thought of one more question.

“Can you kill someone?”

Of course that’s what she would want, Zelda thought; killing one or both of those evil men 

“We can,” Zelda answered gently. “But not in a way that’s unique to magic, I’m afraid. It’s still all knives and poison and blunt force trauma, but with spells to clean up the mess, make authorities look the other way.”

“Or to draw out the torture,” Hilda added.

“If…” Alice stammered. “Would…”

True sadness for Alice penetrated any lingering anger in that moment.

“As much as they both seem like men the world would be better off without, Alice, I’m afraid now’s not a good time for us to be drawing undue attention toward ourselves. I’ll spare you the politics, but recent happenings have left us...in a state of turmoil, and exposed to greater harm. I’m afraid if we were connected to two high-profile mortal deaths, the bow just might break.”

Alice waved away the suggestion. “I understand completely. Forget I brought it up.” She took another bite of biscuit. “But...if I may ask, what kind of turmoil are we talking?”

Alice was a snoop by nature, but Zelda supposed there was no harm in telling her details she’d forget in the near future, and perhaps she would stop. “I was...am...married to our former priest, He recently staged an unsuccessful coup, and is running off to who knows where.”

“No shit.” Of all the wild things she’d heard, this one seemed to surprise Alice the most. “Maybe he’ll run into my boys. They can start a book club. Or drive off a cliff together.”

“Hear, hear!” Hilda shouted, raising her teacup, then swigging as if it were a flute of champagne. 

Hers began an avalanche of giggles from both Alice and Zelda, perhaps delirious from lack of sleep, or finally at ease.

******

It was easy for Zelda, with how little time she spent among them, to forget how quickly humans tired, how tightly their nerves could bundle. Alice had been through a trying few days, not to mention without a wash or a soft bed. So while Hilda changed the bedding in the spare room, Zelda went through her vast selection of nightgowns and robes to choose an ensemble that might fit Alice comfortably.

When she returned to the bathroom to deposit Alice’s nightclothes, one might have logically assumed that Alice would be in a state of undress. And yet Zelda was still taken aback by the sight of Alice, wrapped in a towel and skimming her fingers against the water to gauge its temperature.

“My apologies,” Zelda said, cooly flustered. “Let me give you some privacy.”

“Don’t be sorry, Zelda. This is your house after all.”

She only nodded. “I do hope the bedroom is to your liking.” Even when she wanted to be trite, Zelda couldn’t help but be a splendid hostess. “How are you feeling?”

“Dead tired. But I can’t sleep until I’ve washed all of this filth off.”

“And how are you...feeling? About...everything?”

Alice smiled and shrugged. “I think I’ve decided that somebody’s knocked me out, and this is all a weird hallucination. That or one of those bastards killed me and I’m already dead.”

Zelda chuckled. “Are you in heaven or hell?”

“That depends on how well this bath turns out.”

Zelda was not the kind to gawk at beautiful women, at least not in plain sight. Alice was in fine form for a human, but that wasn’t a surprise. What was surprising was the tattoo on her right thigh, just barely peeking out from under the towel.

“I didn’t realize you were such a reptile enthusiast.”

Alice seemed confused, until Zelda gestured a raised eyebrow at the offending leg.

“Oh, that,” Alice said, suddenly realizing how exposed she was. “I got it when I was a teenager. It feels like, oh, about three lifetimes ago at this point.”

“I just wouldn’t have taken you for a gang member, is all.”

“You know about the Serpents?”

“My family has lived in Greendale for quite some time, Alice. I know more about the goings on of these wicked little towns than you might think possible.”

Out of all the mortals who could have stumbled into their lives, Alice Cooper might just be the most fascinating; every turn in her story took you somewhere unexpected. She would certainly make an interesting house guest.

And perhaps, a worthy adversary.

As she smoothed the silk robe hanging on the bathroom door, she turned to Alice and said, “Just one last thing.” There was mischief in her eyes. “Your snake is loose.”

“Excuse me?!”

It only took a trill of her fingers; at Zelda’s command the ink on Alice’s skin came to life, slithering black and free from its stasis. By the time Alice looked down, the snake was coiling around her kneecap. She stumbled backwards, the backs of her legs careening into the tub. But there were no screams, as if her body had simply run out of them. 

“Don’t worry, Alice; I don’t think it will bite.”

The ink travelled down her leg, hopping from one foot to the other, crawling back up and settling on Alice’s left thigh, a mirror of its former self. Her eyes were blown wide, mouth agape, fingers clenching the slippery edge of the bath.

"Do you believe in my power now?"

Alice, on the precipice of a yet another great yell, was precluded by the sound of a slamming door, and the pitter-patter of teenage footsteps.

“It sounds as if my niece is home. My sister and I should probably explain you to her.”

Alice remained paralyzed; from fear or wonder, Zelda was not certain.

“Do enjoy your bath, Alice. And try to get some rest.”

She left their guest to contemplate her disbelief, closing the door in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, in early june, a sweet summer child: “it’s a great time to start your first multi-chapter fic! everything has started to level out in life so you’ll be able to update regularly, no prob!!”
> 
> …...and then everything in my life imploded!!! well, close to everything. not to give you a sob story or anything, but i visited more hospitals (to see other people, i’m fine) in the month of July than i have in my entire life. so i wasn’t exactly in a place to write. i’m still not 100%, but i don’t want to be *completely* lapped by Riverdale coming back in September, which will inevitably jettison Alice’s character yet again and leave a bad taste in my mouth. so i don't plan on abandoning you for that long again, my little niche lovers of mean ladies.
> 
> you can follow me on twitter @electricmisso or on tumblr at @electric-eccentricity for more of those, btw.


	3. "I have some experience with leather."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It only seems fair,” Zelda said smugly while slinking into a stately wingback. “Every man who’s held my position has kept his share of unholy delights on hand, whether he made them known to the coven or not.” Alice stood behind the chair, running a finger along Zelda’s shoulder. “I plan to partake in the same benefits.”

Sabrina expected her aunts to be angry, or at least a bit concerned, when her late-night study session with Theo turned into a sleepover with nary a text or smoke signal. But when she returned home just after sunrise to see her Aunt Hilda waiting on the stairs, her prepared apology was quickly abandoned; Hilda appeared more guilty than Sabrina herself.

“What’s wrong, Auntie? I know I should’ve called but after so long you weren’t asking where I was and I just-“

“No, no, no, love - nothing’s wrong.” Hilda eyed her niece and the room around them, wrapping herself more tightly in her sweater, speaking quietly even though they were alone. “But before you scurry up to your room...I need to tell you about the...house guest we acquired last night.”

Sabrina took her battle stance, unintimidating as it might have been. “Is it a demon?” she yelled with her signature righteous fury. “Where is the bastard?!”

“Sweetheart, calm down,” Hilda replied. “Not that kind of guest. One we actually invited.”

“Oh,” said Sabrina, sufficiently satisfied. “Cool. Is it a distant relative from the old country or something?”

“Not as such, dearie. It’s actually a woman your Aunt Zelda and I met last night.” She paused a beat. “A human woman. From the next town over.” Sabrina had done a double take at human, more out of confusion than anger.

“The both of you? Aunt Zee willingly welcomed a mortal stranger into our house?”

“Aunt Zee can be charitable when it proves prudent.” The disembodied, icy voice carried down the staircase until their eyes traveled to find its source. Upon their discovery, Zelda began to descend the stairs. “And besides, it’s not as if we just ran into her on Main Street - she was hiding out in the church, starved and shivering. It would have been cruel to just leave her there.”

Sabrina’s eyes went wide with bewilderment, as if to say, _when has cruelty ever stopped her?_

Instead, she said, “Do I get to meet this mysterious visitor from the faraway lands of Riverdale?”

“Later. I’ve just left her to soak in the tub, after which I’m sure she’ll be in want of a deep sleep and a large meal, in that order. Perhaps we should put on a roast for dinner.”

Hilda nodded in understanding. “And by we you mean…?”

“Of course I mean you, sister. My hospitality can only be stretched so far.”

“Right then,” Hilda sighed. “I suppose I’m off to the butcher.” She eyed Sabrina. “Would you like to join me, love?”

“Sure Auntie. You can tell me more about…” she waited for someone to finish the sentence.

“Alice.”

“Alice.” Sabrina smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

******

After her sister and niece left to procure their dinner, Zelda remained downstairs, to give Alice a modicum of privacy, but with an ear turned to the ceiling, lest any unfortunate incidents occur. After six chapters of reading, she heard a soft footfall heading down the upstairs hallway. “She must be pruned beyond measure,” Zelda uttered to no one in particular.

Once Alice was assuredly tucked into bed, she made her way down to the basement; working up a corpse would do wonders to calm her down after such a flurry of activity.

As grotesque as it could often be, Zelda did enjoy the embalming process; it was an extraordinary way to get to know humans without having to converse with them. She found the methodical nature of the thing calming, but the visceral, hands-on aspects invigorating; holding hearts and bathing in blood without the pesky post-bacchanal cleanup or socializing. George Whitman, the body on her table, was 87 years of stout mundanity, and fondling his organs in particular wouldn’t teach her anything new. But it would give her the space to wonder. About other people. Well, one person in particular.

_What does that amount of trauma do to a person? she thought. How have those legs carried her to survival so many times? What must her lungs look like, with the way she screams?_

She was able to lose herself in thoughts of Alice for hours, until the rich smells of Hilda’s roast wafted down to the basement. Soon enough, three faint yet bright voices filtered down through the ventilation. Mr. Whitman’s finishing touches could wait until after dessert.

She knew Hilda would break out a fine vintage red, one that would pair impeccably with the beef; it would also impress their guest, and with any luck, relax her. Yet, when Zelda reached the top of the stairs, Alice already appeared completely comfortable, chatting happily with Sabrina while Hilda put the final touches on dinner; it was as if she’d been a part of their coven for years, if the people in their coven actually liked spending time with each other.

“Ah, she lives!” Hilda exclaimed with sarcastic surprise. “I thought the smell of read meat might draw her out of her cave.”

Alice was still in Zelda’s borrowed dressing gown. At any other dinner table she might have looked out of place, next to Sabrina’s school attire and Hilda’s cozy cardigan. But she made her place quite nicely, an exotic traveler regaling the locals, holding court.

“I’m glad to see you looking so refreshed, Alice.” She looked her own nightclothes up and down, unsure if it was out of judgment or appreciation. “I hope you’ve found your time in our home…comfortable.” 

“I’m so sorry I’m not be dressed more appropriately for dinner.” It wasn’t a necessary or believable apology. “Hilda offered me some things from your closet, but it was all so...high-necked. I’ve gotten too used to hippie fashion, all loose and flowy, so I stuck with this.” Alice ran her hands along the relaxed silk of the robe. “But I do appreciate the touch of class. _That_ I’ve missed.”

“I’m glad,” Zelda said stiffly. “It seems you’ve officially been introduced to my niece.”

“Auntie, Alice is such a _badass._ ” Of course Sabrina would admire such a life of danger and mischief. “Did you know that she infiltrated a cult to be an informant for the FBI?!”

“In fact I did, Sabrina,” Zelda said smugly. “We got to know each other quite a bit before you arrived home this morning. Did you know she was in a gang at your age?” Her eyes were focused intently on Alice as she spoke. “Has she shown you her tattoo?”

Alice gulped, small enough that only those paying close attention, namely Zelda, could see, but recovered quickly. “As if a teenage biker gang is anything compared to a real-life coven! Tell me more about this...witchcraft.” The word fell off her tongue as if it were a peculiar after-school activity, like bug collecting or intermural sports.

Zelda joined them at the dinner table, arms crossed. “I was under the impression you thought this was all a hallucination?”

“Well,” Alice sighed, “at this point I figure, whatever is happening, whether I’m in a coma or dead or part of an elaborate kidnapping plot, at least I’m getting a chance to relax.” As much as the assertion was filled to the brim with snark, Zelda could still feel her relief. “So I might as well enjoy myself.”

“I completely agree,” said Hilda, setting down her carving knife to raise a teacup amongst wine glasses - and Sabrina’s soda pop. “A toast. To new friends. And enjoying each other’s company.”

As it is customary to maintain eye contact while clinking glasses, the sight of Zelda and Alice, caught in each other’s gaze across the table, was not necessarily suspicious. They would have remained fixed on only each other, if not for:

“Cheers, Auntie! Wonderful! But Alice was just getting to the good part.”

Zelda rolled her eyes at her niece’s impatience. “Carry on, then,”

“Well,” Alice began,“it wasn’t long after Betty discovered that the Farm had been harvesting organs for -”

“Let’s make our guest talk about this at dinner, Sabrina,” Hilda said, realizing she’d picked an inopportune time to begin carving their roast. “Alice, I’m just so happy you’re here with us....” she trailed off just short of adding _with all of your innards intact._

It make Zelda chuckle. “What a yarn you’ve woven for us, Alice. I only wish we’d known about this harvest, Sister; fresh, teenage kidneys would have cooked up nicely for an spring feast.”

“Oh, so you’re not just witches, you’re cannibals?”

“Only on special occasions,” Zelda replied, accentuating her point with another sip of wine.

“Have some decency, Zelds. Don’t you think Alice has been through enough?”

Yet another sip.

“You can’t scare me this time, Zelda. It won’t work.”

“Well, isn’t that what you’re trying to do to us?” 

Sabrina interjected before Alice could answer. “Auntie Zee, I wanted to hear the story. What reason would she have to lie to us?”

Maybe she wasn’t trying to scare them; maybe she was trying to impress them. Prove that she was worthy of her place at their table. 

Zelda then decided to change course. “Where is Betty now?

It seemed to catch Alice off guard, the inherent tenderness of such a question from someone she’d only known to be ice-cold. “I don’t know. She got out before the so-called ‘ascension,’ but I haven’t been in touch with her since.” There was such pain in her eyes; it might have dissolved into tears if she weren’t putting forth a staunch effort to keep them inside.

“She sounds amazing,” added Sabrina, so often unable to read a room, blind to the suffering of those around her. “I hope I get to meet her someday.”

Of course Sabrina would be so naive, to think that Alice could be apart from her daughter without aching, living in fear of what might happen to her out in the world alone. Or worse, with men like Edgar or Hal or Faustus lurking around every corner. Only a mother, or someone like her, could even begin to contemplate such agony.

“I do too,” Alice replied with a soft, melancholic smile. Zelda could feel her attempts to tamp down her sadness; she was sure Hilda could feel it as well, since Hilda could feel everything. But Alice was quick to point their conversation in a happier direction. “I’m sure you two would cause plenty of trouble together.”

Zelda followed her lead. “Please, don’t even joke about that. Sabrina needs no help causing trouble.”

“Yes, love,” Hilda said softly as she joined them at the table. “As wonderful as I think you are, you might just be a poor influence on young Ms. Cooper.” But before Sabrina could protest, she added, “Now everyone, dig in before it gets cold.”

They weren’t expecting visitors. Yet as dinner began, Zelda felt an immediate and clear presence - two presences, in fact - appear on their porch. If it had been mortal company, she would have felt a slow crawl up her spine as they came up the drive. But these beings appeared out of nowhere, no doubt by teleportation.

Hilda must have felt it too, as the sisters locked eyes, quietly panicked. It was only when the knock on the door came that Sabrina and Alice finally realized what was amiss.

 _ **“Hide her,**_ **”** Zelda snapped. 

They all responded at once.

“Where?!” said Hilda.

“What?!” said Alice.

“Why?!” said Sabrina.

There was no time for an invisibility potion, or any magic that would be virtually undetectable. They couldn’t even hastily sneak Alice out the back, for fear the visitors would see her in the hall from the porch. With any luck, whoever this was wouldn’t have any reason to be suspicious, and would carry on after their visit none the wiser.

“The pantry will have to do.” 

“But Auntie, you’re the high priestess! Why should anyone else get a say in what humans you have over for dinner?”

Sweet Sabrina, with her crystalline sense of justice and lack of head for politics. Everything was so easy in her mind. Zelda silently hoped that, one day, she’d learn.

She replied quickly while hiding Alice’s table setting in the bread box. “My leadership is still in its early and unstable stages. I don’t want Alice’s presence to cause a scandal.” It wouldn’t take much for someone to decide they wanted to overthrow her, or worse, and she knew it.

Alice was already being shuffled to the edge of the kitchen by Hilda . “Zelda, wait!” 

“I will take care of this. You just stay put.”

Zelda found her composure as she made her way through the parlor, throwing her shoulders back, ready to face whoever, whatever might be behind that door.

“Sister Craft, Brother Dryden. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She would have preferred to open the door to a poltergeist or werepanther. They were two of her most meddling and least faithful congregants. Whispers of doubts surrounding her place at the head of the coven were kept quiet, but almost always started with them.

Dryden spoke first, as men so often do. “Good evening, High Priestess. We were hoping for an update on the state of the Church. You mentioned you had planned to visit last night. We’re only a few weeks away from the Solstice, and we will need to have the space prepared for celebration.”

As much as she was wont to admit it, Hilda was right: she’d need serious practice hiding her disdain for people such as these if she expected to maintain her position. “And I suppose this couldn’t have waited until our next mass?”

“The coven feels it is of the utmost urgency,” Sister Craft spoke. “We need a return to normalcy after everything the coven has been through.” _Everything your family has put us through,_ she meant.

Among the three of them, none were particularly skilled at hiding their contempt for one another. Zelda’s already infinitesimal facade of hospitality was rapidly fading. “And the coven chose the two of you to express this concern on their behalf?”

In lieu of a response, Sister Craft’s face pinched in a most unsightly fashion. Without an offer to come inside, both witches pushed past the leader of their coven and into her home.

“I apologize, High Priestess, but I can’t help but picking up a most...foul odor.” 

Zelda’s eyes steeled, only a hair’s breadth from tearing into the woman before her. She quickly offered up an excuse. “It must be Mr. Whitman you’re smelling. A fine old gentleman whose corpse I’ve been working on for most of the day. We must keep the lights on somehow,” she added with an awkward chuckle.

“No, no,” Sister Craft continued deeper into the parlor, Brother Craft not far behind. “It’s not the usual funeral stench. I only mention because you usually keep such a clean home.”

Through pursed lips she added, “There is some _trash_ that was just on my _porch_...”

“No, no,” replied Brother Dryden “It’s nothing of the waste variety, as it were. It smells ...like a human.”

Of course. All witches had particular heightened senses, like Hilda’s empathy. So it made perfect sense that these two meddlesome nincompoops would be able to sniff out Alice, regardless of where she’d been hidden.

“I assure you, there aren’t any mortals here. Perhaps it’s old traces of Sabrina’s school friends. Either way, I can have who I want in my home as I so choose, same as you.”

“We don’t mean to pass judgement, your Unholiness.” Sister Craft was a far worse liar than she was a snoop. “Humans do have their uses: eating and...well, you know, as it were.”

“Zelda.” Brother Dryden’s foregoance of her title was clearly meant to illustrate that he held no respect for her or her space. “If we are going to remain loyal to this new church of yours, we’d like to know that you are not fraternizing with mortals. Look at all the trouble your brother’s...association with mortals has caused us.” He stopped short of naming a certain blonde teenager.

“Pardon me,” came a cheery voice from the doorway into the kitchen. It was Alice, decidedly not hiding in the pantry; she was still wearing Zelda’s robe, only tied slightly looser than it had been moments go at the dinner table.

“I hate to barge in on a conversation among such...superior beings, but I couldn’t help but overhear your concerns.” Something was off about Alice. She was clearly playing at girlish innocence; one step further and she’d have been twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. 

She her eyes down in shame and submission. “Mistress Zelda, that foul human odor must be me. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you somehow.”

Zelda’s eyes, trained on the other woman, were wide with confusion and panic. 

_Why couldn’t she just stay in the pantry?_ Zelda thought to herself. _Why did I open the damn door? Why did she...call me Mistress?_

The puzzle, the plan, was slowly coming together in her mind. Her voice deepened into it’s domineering range, so her performance would be matched with Alice in their double act of deception.

“Yes, pet, I believe it must be.” 

“High Priestess?” Sister Craft’s voice came from behind them, her insolent tone replaced with a curious one. “Would you like to introduce us?”

“Not particularly, no.” Zelda moved to stand next to Alice, placing an arm around her waist and a hand on her hip, careful to only suggest possessiveness. “But since you’ve already intruded, this is Alice, my...companion.” They would know she meant concubine, paramour, moll; in this house for sex and sex alone. “I’ve come to find her quite...entertaining.” 

For her part, Alice giggled like a sheepish schoolgirl right along with the ruse.

“ _Alice,_ ” Sister Craft repeated. “Down the rabbit hole, indeed.” 

Brother Dryden flashed a predatory grin. “I’ll admit, I knew you had promiscuous tendencies, but I didn’t think you the type to convene a harem once you ascended to the priesthood. Makes me respect you just a bit more.”

“It only seems fair,” Zelda said smugly while slinking into a stately wingback. “Every man who’s held my position has kept his share of unholy delights on hand, whether he made them known to the coven or not.” Alice stood behind the chair, running a finger along Zelda’s shoulder. “I plan to partake in the same benefits.” It pained her to be so electrified by Alice like this, but truth be told, Alice would be electrifying in any situation.

“And do you plan to share her with the rest of the coven?” 

The nerve of this man, to barge into _her_ house complaining about _her_ church and then trying to get his jollies with _her_ fake sex puppet.

“Alice is a special creature.” She brought her own fingers to her shoulder, to trill along with Alice’s, just short of grasping hands. “She is mine and mine alone. That’s why I had no plans to tell you she was here. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas about who she serves.”

Sister Craft, Lilith bless her soul, seemed less voracious than genuinely curious.“What makes her so special, if I may ask?” 

Alice was coquettish in their spotlight, bordering on saccharine. “Sir, madam...I consider it my hallowed duty - no, my privilege - to give your High Priestess everything she wants. I’m highly skilled in the art of...oral acrobatics, and I have some experience with leather.” Zelda’s mind, not of its own volition, envisioned a sight of Alice in a Serpents jacket, and nothing else.

But she simply smirked. “Let it be known that I will do anything for my coven, but I don’t like to share.” She met the gaze of each houseguest; Brother Dryden thoroughly sheepish and reprimanded, Sister Craft still alight with wonder. 

“Now that you have thoroughly meddled in my private affairs, I think the two of you ought to be going now. I will provide an update on church renovations at our next service.” She wouldn’t do them the honor of a proper goodbye. “I trust you can see yourselves out.”

Sister Craft was downright sunny. “Have a lovely night, your excellency. Alice.”

“Goodnight, High Priestess.

“A parting word of advice, Brother.” She quirked a brow in his direction, and could practically feel Alice’s devilish grin behind her. “Be nicer to girls with promiscuous tendencies. You might just be expected to serve them one day.

They both left without a closing remark.

Alice returned to her normal voice the second the door shut behind them. “Oh my god, I can’t believe that worked!” She seemed as much relieved as she was exhilarated that their scam had carried them through.

“Was that too much? They started talking about the only good uses for humans, so I figured it was better to play along and - ”

Zelda got up from her chair in an attempt to calm her scene partner. “You did very well, Alice. I’m only sorry you had to engage with that...degrading conversation.”

She took a breath, and smiled with the same wistful melancholy she had at the dinner table. “Playing along is something I’ve gotten very good at over the years. Besides,” she added, “every church has its busy bodies. Although I don’t think the ones from Sweeteater Presbyterian would be appeased at the suggestion of lesbian BDSM activity.”

“I don’t know, Alice; maybe that’s exactly what they need…”

The door to the kitchen cracked open just smaller than a hair. “Are they gone?” said Hilda’s tiny whisper. 

“Yes, sister. Alice’s flash of genius helped me scare them off.” 

Suddenly, she was met with the uncomfortable thought that Sabrina might have been eavesdropping right along with Hilda. “Where is our niece?”

“About that...she tried to barge in here guns blazing once Brother Dry-Lips started talking smack about humans. So I had to lock _her_ in the pantry.”

“She’ll be dying to know what happened to those organs,” Zelda replied. “Come along, dinner’s getting cold.

Zelda retrieved Alice’s hidden plate from the bread box, returning it to her seat at their table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAHAHAHAHA. i have plenty of excuses for why it's taken me this long to update. the three of you who are reading this deserve better so i'll spare you. but i absolutely REFUSE to be the person who abandons a fic. this is my first attempt back at writing after six months and my brain is still quite foggy from...*vague hand gestures at everything.* so please forgive me, and i love you.
> 
> tumblr: electric-eccentricity  
> twitter: electricmisso


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